


Where Desire Dared Them to Go

by ponderinfrustration



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Lock, Food Porn, Hot Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderinfrustration/pseuds/ponderinfrustration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cream slathered on Sherlock's skin leads to to some exhausting activities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Desire Dared Them to Go

**Author's Note:**

> Title once again from the Garth Brooks song 'The Night Will Only Know'

Sherlock’s skin is salty with sweat, bitter under John’s tongue, a delicate contrast t the sweetness of the cream daubed onto his chest. With lips and gentle sucking he takes it off, down the line of his throat, over his nipples, into the dip of his belly button and lower, fingers running over the non-decorated parts of his body before gripping his hips tight, thumbs massaging the muscles beneath.

Sherlock’s hands, for their part, grip the bed posts tight, threatening to damage the wood as John’s head travels lower, closer and closer to the fine trail of hair running from his belly button on, the lightness of his tongue making the nerve endings beneath it tingle, his pulse throbbing in his neck. John breathes across the detective’s skin, before burying his head in Sherlock's crotch, soaking in the musk, nuzzling the dark hair. Sherlock sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood but unwilling to cry out, rocking his hips forward until John takes him all the way in, his hands sliding down to hitch Sherlock's legs up and over his shoulders.

Breath coming in short gasps, muscles spasming, Sherlock lets go of the bed posts, digging his fingers instead into John's shoulders so that his nails leave violent red crescents in their wake. Low chant, lover's name murmured low, revelling in the warm heat of his mouth encasing him, sliding up and down in time to the rocking of his hips. The knot tightens in the pit of his stomach until it is almost unbearable, breath stuttering until release.

The tension bleeds out of Sherlock as he pulls in great lungfuls of air, seeping away from taut muscles as he sinks deeper into the mattress. John pulls back, pressing his lips to Sherlock's in a bruising kiss, blood and semen mixing together in an odd combination of flavour. Carefully, he guides Sherlock's hand to his own rigid penis, each pumping it until John throws his head back, eyes seeming to glow in the low light of the bedroom.

Sleep comes easily after that.


End file.
